


Post-It Notes and Bloody Hand Prints, or the one where Mark and Dave start to accidentally share a body

by SpoopyJim



Category: The Edge Of Sleep (Podcast), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Body Horror, Broken Bones, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Horror, M/M, Mirrors, Moobles, Nightmare Fuel, Nightmares, Possession, Post-it Notes, Scars, Sharing a Body, Unus Annus, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:53:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21644797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpoopyJim/pseuds/SpoopyJim
Summary: Dave Torres was used to dreaming like this. It was just a weird dream, waking up in someone's room with a dog, and everyone calling him Mark. But why couldn't he wake up anymore, even when he left the dream?Mark can feel the Moobles in his blood, even when he wakes up again, somehow having went from one place to another with no memory of why, when, or who he had talked to. He needed to find out what was happening.So they started leaving notes.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Dave Torres
Comments: 13
Kudos: 47





	1. Dave ; Prologue 1, or the chapter where Dave last sees Linda

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna try writing horror so there's something
> 
> Anyways, had the idea and rolled with it, hope people like it.

Dave didn’t startle awake like he thought he would, considering his sleep habits before this moment. 

He’d fallen asleep, with the tribe… dreamwalkers, the whales. Right next to the little girl who laughed softly, when they stared at each other.

But when he woke up, after his first dreamless sleep in years, after the death of two friends, after-...

Well, he woke up in bed, a dog sleeping right beside him.

Dave’s hand tightened around fabric, around a blanket under him that he was so, so thankful for having.

But…

How did he get it?

Dave gave a low groan, shifting in bed- Bed?- and sitting up.

His hands moved to touch at his clothes.

A t-shirt, one he never remembered owning. Sweatpants. Warm. He owned a multitude of those.

Chest, bare of scars, just like Linda said it would be. Odd, but not indicative of anything he could explain yet.

Hair, shorter?

“Hello?” He asked finally, and found it was still his voice, so there wasn’t much need for alarm on that front.

Maybe they lied? Maybe this was a dream?

Or maybe the sleeping and dying was all its own dream, or hallucination, and none of it ever happened.

If that was the case, hopefully, Mateo and Katie were alive. And maybe Linda just never existed, or Linda was the nurse Dave had assigned, and in his hallucinatory haze, he’d latched onto.

No.

Linda was real, and his friends were dead.

That was a fantasy that Dave... didn’t have the heart to work with. He knew if he was wrong, and everything really  _ had  _ happened…

…. He wouldn’t be able to handle the disappointment, and heartbreak once again.

If this was a dream, it was far better than the pit.

Dave rubbed his hands over his face and got off the bed, traveling to the bathroom. He was confused as to why it felt like muscle memory, his body guiding him to the room, to the right place.

But he didn’t question it yet, just stared at the mirror.

“I don’t look different… I don’t  _ sound  _ different… I guess someone cut my hair?”

Dave needed to relax, and talking out loud to himself was somehow, someway, helping. So he was latching onto it.

Dave decided to take another look at the scarless chest he had, before pausing once his shirt was off.

Scarless was… the wrong word.

The scars from… the incident, were gone. There was no evidence of the terrifying night on his body.

But there were definitely scars.

Scars Dave had absolutely no memory of, though.

Dave traced a scar near his belly button, before dropping down to the floor.

He started getting naked, inspecting his body and getting more panicked as he realized there were subtle,  _ wrong  _ things with his body.

“Nightmare.” He finally said, looking around himself.

“It has to be a nightmare. I- maybe-”

He rushed to the bedroom again and hid under the covers, squeezing his eyes shut. 

He just needed to sleep.

He just woke up, but he needed to sleep again, sleep in his dream, wake up in reality?

He held his breath, before gasping when he woke up.

“Dave???” Linda.

Linda’s voice was slightly panicked- maybe more than slightly.

But he wasn’t dreaming anymore, that was all that mattered.

“I… I’m okay.” He whispered, thankful he hadn’t woken anyone else. He turned to Linda.

“Get back to sleep. I’m sorry.”

Linda looked concerned, but slowly nodded. She shifted and went back to sleep.

Dave exhaled a bit, before laying back down and shutting his eyes. That wasn’t even that bad of a nightmare, he shouldn’t have forced himself awake.

He opened his eyes again to the room he’d been in before.

He didn’t know it’d be a long, long time before he talked to Linda again.

“I thought they said I wouldn’t dream.”

He noticed that he had pants now, and was sitting on the side of the bed.

Dave stood up, moving to the dresser drawers and looking through them.

This was not his wardrobe, but at this point he didn’t expect it to be.

He tossed on a nice shirt that said CLOAK on it, with a blue coat over it. The sweatpants could stay, he thought.

Dave didn’t think of the need to go out for people, no work, no… anything. Not in the dream.

Finally, he grabbed the phone charging beside the bed, opening it.

Thankfully, muscle memory carried him through unlocking it, but he quickly wrote the code down on a sticky note from the desk as soon as the phone was unlocked.

He didn’t find much on the phone.

Not that it wasn’t a goldmine of information, it was actually even more than that.

It was… overwhelming.

Dave didn’t want to look too hard unless he needed to.

He put the phone into the pocket of the jacket he was wearing, finally heading to the door.

His stomach grumbled, and he nodded.

Food.

Dave knew dying in a dream meant dying in real life, now, and he wasn’t sure if the whales were going to be there to help him this time yet.

So by all means.

It was breakfast time.

The dog followed.


	2. Mark ; Prologue 2, or the one with the body horror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark's not sure where he is, or why his hand feels wet and painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broken fingers warning, vomit, but also maybe some nightmare fuel about a mirror
> 
> Oh, and Moobles
> 
> ALSO IDEA??? What if when the body is asleep they have to work together during nightmares  
> And maybe a nightmare could be.... huff I know I know but I'm listening to a fan song and
> 
> FNAF dream, I'll say it. i'd love that jcudivfd

Mark’s fingers ached.

They felt cold, and wet, and painful.

He slowly sat up, groaning and holding his hand close to his chest. 

He couldn’t see what was wrong with them, so he just held them protectively against his chest.

“Hello…?” He called, looking around. 

It was way too dark, he couldn’t see. Mark huddled up in a ball on the floor, trying to will his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Finally, there was light.

Mark flinched at the sudden flick of the light, gasping when a mirror settled in front of him.

His hand was covered in blood.

Flesh barely clung to his bones, and as soon as he saw  _ white _ , he vomited.

“Marrrk~”

Mark squinted at the noise.

What was that-? He was sure he heard… 

His mirror image shifted without him, and Mark flinched backwards violently, immediately, ignoring the pain in his hand and the vomit he’d now gotten on his pants.

“Do you remember when you used to play the mirror game? When you used to pretend your reflection was your twin?”

His reflection was speaking.

Mark gave a few deep breaths. “I… what are you? What the fuck is going on?”

“Answer me.”

Mark swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, of course. I used to play it all the time.”

“What if I told you, that you made this happen. You caused this by doing that.”

Mark’s eyebrows knitted together. “What the hell are you talking about? What the fuck are you?!”

His reflection tsked. “I’m not your enemy, Mark.”

Mark relaxed slightly when his hand was suddenly healed, before forcing himself to crawl back further from his reflection, blinking in surprise when he hit the wall. Where was he? A pit?

“They are, though.”

Mark gave a noise when his reflection suddenly went back to… well, his reflection, following his every movements and not talking anymore.

“They?! Who is they?!” He yelled at his mirror, before pausing when his reflection suddenly had a blue… thing, right next to his shoulder.

He scrambled around, throwing himself back as the thing jumped on him.

“Get him!” 

Mark struggled as more of them appeared, chattering mindlessly, tearing at his clothes. They were small, but there was too many.

Mark screamed loudly, before throwing himself up in bed.

Mark breathed heavily, eyes wide and heart beating erratically.

He opened and closed his hands, confused as to why he was now naked. 

“I… I… Chica?”

Chica lifted her head, licking Mark’s hand to try and comfort him.

Mark nodded a bit, exhaling and shutting his eyes. He opened them again and got up, moving to his clothes. He grabbed a shirt, underwear, and sweatpants.

“Jesus christ… I have no idea why I’m naked. You see anything, Chica? Did I take off my clothes?”

Chica blinked up at Mark, and he snorted, laughing softly.

“Yeah. You couldn’t tell me even if you wanted to.”

He gently pet Chica, putting on his underwear and sweatpants.

He settled on the edge of his bed, grunting and sighing gently. Mark felt tired.

“Okay. Time for the day.”

And then it went dark.

Mark blinked and looked up at the sky. He didn’t think he was in the pit.

It felt more like a void.

He could hear those… blue things, somewhere, but they weren’t where he was, and that was fucking FINE with him.

What the fuck was happening?

Was there any way he could make this stop…

He felt alone.

Mark let his thoughts wander back to the mirror game he used to play.

Dave. He’d named his- did he name his twin?

Mark held his leg to his chest, trying hard to remember.

He felt like if he’d named his twin, he’d have a better name than  _ Dave _ , right? How did his twin get a name?

Mark tried not to think about how this felt like that one game, Uncle Who Works For Nintendo or something.

Dave was the other character in the game, and he had to think about things to notice that things were… wrong.

Well.

“Think about Dave.” He joked to himself- anything to not freak out.

Dave had been his best friend growing up. Not in a sad way, no, he had friends. He had “best” friends, but Dave had always been his favorite.

But Dave was his reflection, so how had he been his favorite?

What happened to make it that way, and why couldn’t Mark remember?

He remembered… 

They used to play a lot, this one year, and a bit after that. After that, it was much less than usual, but they were still close.

Did they talk…? Mark wondered if he was crazy now.

No, he was just a kid who’d played a game. But why was this all happening now, then?!

Mark shuddered as the noises of those blue things got closer.

He had the choice of staying put, or trying to move away. If those blue things could get closer, he could get farther away, right?

He willed himself to stand, but it felt like he was floating in space.

“... swim.”

Mark nodded and listened for the blue things, before trying to move away.

He was slow, he was nearly naked, and he was trying hard not to panic.

Moobles, his mind told him.

These were Moobles, and they were going to hurt him.

Mark needed to find somewhere to hide.


End file.
